


A Holy Sacrifice

by Accidentallytechohazardous



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidentallytechohazardous/pseuds/Accidentallytechohazardous
Summary: Renji leaves a surprise for Izuru in his private quarters. Shuuhei isn't usually the one in their relationship who sits back and lets someone else take control, but sometimes it's good to take a different perspective.





	A Holy Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Flips a peace sign. Bleach and the Bleach fandom are both hellholes but I'm still fresh kickin' with that gay shit

You know, there was a time in Shuuhei’s life where he wouldn’t go to absurd lengths for the sake of sexual gratification.

(Actually, that’s a lie. Going to absurd lengths over anything is pretty much Shuuhei’s specialty.)

He had some time since Renji left him to get comfortable in his bonds, finding the best place to put his weight so he didn’t feel off-balance or sore. As a rule, you should never leave a partner in bondage unattended, but Renji had assured Shuuhei that zhe would be just outside the building, and if Shuuhei needed zhim he could flair up his reiatsu to call Renji back in an instant.

Besides, Izuru was on his way.

When Shuuhei shifts on his hips, the soft rope stretched across his skin creaks conspicuously. He has almost no movement available to him, white rope looped around his thighs to his calves, forcing him to stay sitting on his knees and ankles. He has to be very aware of his position, being so low to the ground and with his knees spread out.

Shuuhei and Renji had a discussion beforehand on whether Shuuhei should wear the stringy thing that wasn’t quite a fundoshi but certainly not covering enough to be called underwear, or let himself be presented as indecently as possible. The truth of the matter was that Izuru would probably be happy with as little barrier between himself and Shuuhei as possible, but it was a little bit chilly in this room for Shuuhei, what with no clothes and all. He would like to draw as little attention to that fact downstairs as possible.

Anyways.

It occurred to Shuuhei to be surprised at how well Renji had trussed him up, and wonder whether Renji learned how to do ropework zhimself or from Izuru. Shuuhei’s wrists were tied together, and his arms pinned to his back by the lines of rope that wrapped around his biceps to his chest, traveling across his torso from neck to waist in a diamond pattern. If Shuuhei tried to lean forward or backwards too much, he’d feel the weightless lurch of being set off balance, and have to adjust himself before topping over.

He did wonder, also, what it would be like to be here blindfolded. To have that no-gravity feeling along with not having any ability to tell where he actually was. To try and parse through a world of sensations and textures unable to be seen or touched. But that, like the option of a gag that Renji had blithely offered, would be tabled for now.

Besides, Shuuhei wanted Izuru to see him when he came in. And Shuuhei wanted to see Izuru see him.

And if Shuuhei was blindfolded, he wouldn’t be able to occupy himself by checking out Izuru’s personal quarters. It’s been a long time since he was in here. Since before Shuuhei started dating Izuru and Renji, even. Shuuhei may not have been in the relationship, initially, but he’s clocked in enough hours at this place. Taking Izuru home from parties, tucking Izuru in as he babbled and drooled on the futon like a sweet little sweaty angel before passing out himself on the couch. Catching up on paperwork together. Visiting Izuru when he was home sick from work.

… Actually, none of those memories are all that great. With something like an epiphany dawning on him, Shuuhei realizes that the barracks’ private quarters kind of sucks, and their house is way better. Izuru must have realized this too, since as Shuuhei cranes his neck around he fails to see any personal artifacts or decoration. Wow, Izuru.

Well, at least he left the futon, which Shuuhei is perched upon right now. No way was he going to sit on his knees on the hard floor for however long it took Izuru to read Renji’s text. Which, apparently, was longer than Shuuhei thought it would be.

It is, of course, not long after that thought strikes Shuuhei that he hears the lock on the door click- the rattle of metal keys and the mechanical ‘clunk’ of the tumblers before the door slides open with a startling creak.

And for less than a second, there’s a flash of panic that goes from the tip of Shuuhei’s toes, up his spine and into his teeth. An instinctual, irrational, internal screech of ‘I’m alone! I’m vulnerable! I’m going to die!’ that sometimes happens to people from time to time. And there are a million thoughts that range from the extreme (could get murdered) to the reasonable (it’d be really, really embarrassing) of what will happen if it’s not actually Izuru on the other side of that door.

And then the door opens, and a perfect rectangle of glowing light spills into the room. It stretched across the floor and across Shuuhei’s body, lighting his skin up gold. It catches him in his eyes, making him wince and turn away from the sudden blast in his face. It’s immediately overwhelming, as if Shuuhei had been at the bottom of the ocean, entrenched in darkness, and just breached the surface to see the sun for the first time in his life.

When the sudden shock of light slowly abides, Shuuhei has enough self control to crack open one eye and see the outline of Izuru Kira drawn in shadow with the light drawn around him like a fiery halo. It soaks into his black clothes, ebbing into his flaxen hair and the pallor of his skin. Shuuhei can hear, not quite see, the grin in Izuru’s voice when he says in a purr. “Sorry. Were you waiting for someone?”

Izuru closes the door behind him, and once again they are submerged at the bottom of the ocean. Shuuhei has to blink a few times before he can find Izuru amongst the darkness. His light hair and skin stand out like a ghost, all waifish with big, blue eyes.

“Hope you weren’t waiting long.” Izuru smirks fondly in his first few strikes into the room, though his lips dip into a frown and his brows furrow when it takes Shuuhei too long to respond. “.. You weren’t, were you? Are you alright? Do you want me to untie you-”

Shuuhei swallows and shakes his head. Focus. “No. I’m good. You just surprised me.”

“In that case, should I come closer?” Izuru crouches down a little to be closer to Shuuhei’s eye-level. Shuuhei hears the song of a pleased smile in the way Izuru speaks. Playful. In the past, Shuuhei had never known Izuru to be the kind of person who was playful or had the beginning of a laugh in their voice, unless that laugh was pointed in someone else’s misfortune. Izuru’s genuine happiness is a fickle but loyal thing.

Shuuhei, still feeling a little shell-shocked but quickly doing his best to recover, shrugs innocently. The rope clasped around his arms creaks audibly again. “You’re the only one here who can.”

Izuru sinks to the floor, coming down to his knees in front of Shuuhei and pushing his face right up in front of his own. Shuuhei inhales deeply automatically, and feels his chest press against the harness of ropes tying him down. Izuru’s eyes become heavy, closing half-lidded as his irises roll over the entire shape of Shuuhei’s body. The smile on his pink lips is positively cat-like, particularly when he brings one hand up to trace the shape of Shuuhei’s jaw.

“Renji told me that zhe had a present waiting for me.” Izuru says, slowly bringing the pad of his thumb to Shuuhei’s bottom lip. Shuuhei’s lashes flutter at the proximity; he doesn’t know if he should respond, or act stony. He finds it hard to think, however, when Izuru drags the pad of his finger across Shuuhei’s lips. “I didn’t know you’d be here all wrapped up. That’s new for you.”

Shuuhei’s eye tries to follow Izuru’s hand, of course failing. He has to part his lips to respond, in doing so interrupting Izuru’s touching. “Hopefully not ‘new’ bad, right?”

“No, of course not bad.” Izuru says with what sounds like a touch too much sincerity in his voice. With the tips of his fingers under Shuuhei’s chin, Izuru tilts his head up until their lips are less than an inch apart and he can feel Izuru’s breath on his eyelashes. “You’re perfect.”

Izuru’s kiss is like being plunged into ice water- he keeps enough distance to stay in control, leaving Shuuhei searching for more contact but unable to find it. The only thing he can do is try to lean back and let Izuru deepen the embrace at his own leisure, his teeth scraping over Shuuhei’s lips and leaving the tender skin there sore.

“Mm. Glad you think so.” Shuuhei mutters when he is eventually released. Still, his voice sounds breathless and distant, he’s much too distracted by the way Izuru begins to run his fingers down Shuuhei’s neck, tracing over his collarbone with short, skimming nails. Izuru’s finger walks down the expanse of Shuuhei’s brown chest, ghosting across the places where Shuuhei’s skin is criss-crossed with rope.

They have to be mindful of their bodies, though you wouldn’t always know that from how Izuru acts. Between the three of them, Izuru, Renji and himself, there’s a lot of territory to explore, and a lot of old wounds to try to avoid. Too many times as Shuuhei brushed Izuru’s collarbone and instinctively recoiled from the change in texture when he skims burnt flesh on his shoulder. He has a hard time not getting distracted when he holds Renji’s hand and he notices yet another dislocated knuckle.

Izuru is mindful of this when he sinks down to Shuuhei’s level. Or, maybe, it’s just instinctual for him to be more careful with his lovers. Meticulous. Methodical. Izuru’s eyes are deep with intelligence, the kind that lend themselves too well to smug superiority when Shuuhei needs to talk him down from his ego.

His hands are tender when they glide down Shuuhei’ body, thoughtfully avoiding the scar on the right side of Shuuhei’s abdomen but giving an agonizing amount of attention to the place on Shuuhei’s stomach where he’s a little bit ticklish. The other man inhales sharply when the half-moon edge of Izuru’s nails just barely scrape over his core, and it doesn’t escape Shuuhei to notice how intimate this is. It’s not often he’s caressed or touched very gently, which is a talent that belongs to Izuru. Shuuhei has often been admired, rarely pursued. Something about possessing an abrasive personality or what-have-you.

“You seem… nervous.” Izuru breathes, and his breath ghosts against Shuuhei’s neck. He feels somewhat claustrophobic with one of Izuru’s hands on his hip and the other walking up his thigh. No, claustrophobic isn’t the right word. What this is, is something more akin to willful surrender.

“I’m practically being served to you on a silver platter.” Shuuhei’s voice is dry and he can just barely feel the shell of Izuru’s ear on his lips. Izuru’s palm slides further up the inside of his thigh, cold fingers finding where firm muscle melts into soft, warm flesh. Shuuhei’ voice pitches without his permission. “You don’t think I’m already extremely emotionally committed to this? I know what I signed on for.”

“I appreciate that.” Finally, Izuru’s palm cups Shuuhei’s crotch in a motion that both men realize they have been readily anticipating. The tone had been so slow, so careful (no doubt a result of Izuru wanting to make sure Shuuhei didn’t freak out from the precarious situation) that Shuuhei had forgotten how quickly Izuru could go from zero to a hundred. The pressure turns into a firm squeeze, Izuru’s smile is a sliver where it’s tucked into Shuuhei’s neck, because he is a terrible little asshole dicklord.

Shuuhei’s body rebels, squirming in his constraints. “Don’t tease."

“I’m not.” Izuru insists, giving the side of Shuuhei’s neck a pacifying little lick. “Be patient.”

Being patient evidently means waiting for Izuru to sink comfortably on to Shuuhei’s legs, pinning the other down even more so. Shuuhei watches Izuru settle himself with his soft lips and soft eyes putting hard kisses down Shuuhei’s stomach and he already knows, with very rapt attention, what direction this is going in.

He know he’s hard before Izuru unwraps the piece of fabric wrapped around Shuuhei’s hips, and the temperature of the room is certainly no longer a pressing matter on his mind. Izuru takes extra time to make sure the cloth drags over Shuuhei’s dick in truly the most unnecessarily agonizing way. All the while, Izuru is humming while he rubs Shuuhei’’s thigh with his thumb.

“Renji always talks about what nice legs you’ve got.”

Shuuhei grunts in acknowledgement. He’s a little preoccupied right now, it’s kind of disorienting to look almost directly down his body to keep his eyes on Izuru. To see his skin flushed, places where Izuru has stopped to kiss him standing out pink, and the rope that keeps him bound putting slight little divots in his thighs and hips. “Really now? But zhe’s usually so quiet.” 

“You’re rude.” Izuru seems to be busy admiring Shuuhei, now fully exposed. He has that arrogant smile on him, crouched down he looks like a cat with a new toy. His hand strokes up the length of Shuuhei’s naked cock, releasing a lot of tension that goes right into his core. “Zhe’s right, though. You do have quite a nice body. I’m a fan, though I think your dick is very nice in particular.”

“Thanks for saying so.” Shuuhei’s teeth grind, working to keep his face even as Izuru’s thumb plays with the head of his cock. That long, soft neck cranes and Izuru finally leans down to give it kisses up the shaft. Shuuhei’s hips flex involuntarily, for all the good it does him in his current state.

He’s never sure what to do with himself when he’s not the one in control. Renji has told him that’s what makes him ‘so cute’ and liable to teasing in the past, but Shuuhei doesn’t know if he should take that as a compliment. In a way, it’s nice that the choice is taken away from him like this. Shuuhei only has to think about so much when Izuru’s mouth descends on him and he feels that heat and pressure suddenly wrap tightly around his cock.

The only time Izuru isn’t talkative or saucy seems to be when he’s giving head. Even then, Shuuhei can feel the smugness and the satisfaction radiating off of Izuru when he hollows out his cheeks and giving Shuuhei narrow eyes from between his knees. Izuru might act like he loves to relinquish control to his lovers and just go along for the ride, but Shuuhei know better- Izuru is a brat, and he likes being given what he wants.

Shuuhei doesn’t scream or cry out. But he is getting louder, gradually realizing that he can hear his own breath roaring in his ear. His throat feels tight, body wanting to move but unable. That’s almost more mortifying; to be panting and squirming and moaning with need while Izuru works him with his mouth.

Is this what it means, to feel wanted? They’ve had sex before. Have sex. Frequently. So much so that Shuuhei can’t believe he would even think to question it, but it is always nice to be reminded of the fact. When it comes to Izuru, Shuuhei can’t imagine it ever being a bad thing to feel like he’s wanted, needed.

He loves Izuru, Shuuhei thinks in that moment. Not for the sex, or because of the wanting to feel needed, but because of so, so many things. This, that they have right now, is a product of their love, and not just an action of it. The trust. The faith. The hunger. These things that once felt so foreign to Shuuhei are now practically a part of him.

That’s kind of an odd thought to finish off to, but there you have it. Shuuhei feels release hit him like blow to the gut, knocking all the wind out of him at once and leaving him reeling.

Shuuhei wobbles ungracefully and yes, his knees are definitely sore by now. There’s a high risk of him toppling over either onto Izuru or onto his ass, and he’s not sure he trusts Izuru to right him before mocking ensues.

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to make that decision. Izuru is up and balances him with a hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his lips. Izuru tastes of something that Shuuhei can only assume is himself. And he must be extremely dazed, because at the moment he can only think that that’s sweet instead of gross.

“I’ll cut you out of those now.” Izuru says as he stands. “And you can pay back what I just gave you.”


End file.
